“You know I’m broke,” Deke said sullenly. “How could I enter?”
“Suppose I paid your entry fees?” Carson persisted. “Would you ride?”
“You’re darn tootin’ I would!” Deke said. His eyes followed the leaders of the Grand Parade, looking enviously at Bill Bly riding beside Carol Bell. The girl’s eyes happened to turn his way, and she smiled. Deke felt his heart leap. “You loan me that money, mister! I’ll pay you back out of my winnin’s!”
Carson watched the parade thoughtfully, and for a minute or two he did not speak. Then he said, “You’re entered, Murphy. I already paid your fees. You’re entered in every event, take what you want of them!”
Deke stared, his eyes incredulous. “You mean, you—” He hesitated, uncertain what to say.
“I like to see a kid get his chance,” Carson said, “an’ that in particular when he’s had bad breaks. You get on out there, let’s see you bust ’em wide open!”
An hour later, hurrying up to Tim Carson’s place by the chute, Carol caught his arm. “Uncle Tim! Did you enter that boy in the rodeo? Did you?”
Carson smiled gravely. “I sure did, honey, an’ if you want to gamble I’ll bet you he puts Bly in the shade!”
Carol said nothing, her eyes following the young rider who was saddling the roping horse Carson had provided for him. “Uncle Tim, do you think he is one of those men who robbed that two hundred thousand dollars?”
Carson took the pipe from his mouth. “Now where’d you get that idea? An’ whoever told you it was two hundred thousand?”
“Bill did, but I got the idea from you. You’ve never let that old crime rest. I know it still bothers you.”
“It does at that.” Carson returned his pipe to his teeth. “Carol, I hate crooks. I also hate like poison anyone who’ll let an innocent man do his time. You asked me if I thought Deke was one of them, an’ I’ll tell you: I know he wasn’t. But he’s been in prison for it, an’ I’ve a hunch he’s huntin’ the man who led that holdup—a man we know as Jud Kynell, one of the old bunch that hung out at the Roost.”
“He was in prison?” Carol watched the young rider, her eyes serious. “Do you suppose—I mean, do you think he’s honest now? I—I know some men become thieves or worse while in jail.”
“Honey, I think the boy’s honest. He wouldn’t take money from me without working for it.”
Deke walked toward them, leading his horse. He grinned shyly at the girl. On impulse, Carol removed her handkerchief and handed it to him, then took it back and knotted it about his neck herself.
“You need something that shows you’re riding for us now,” she said. “Good luck.” For a breathtaking instant they were very close, and as she pulled the knot into place, she looked up at him. His face was pale and he looked almost frightened.
“Ma’am,” he said sincerely, “you watch me! I’ll kick the frost out of anything they’ve got—for you!”
* * *
BEFORE THE CONTEST was more than a few minutes old the entire arena had awakened to the fact that out there on the tanbark a fierce duel was beginning, a duel between tall, powerful Bill Bly, and the unknown newcomer.
“Ladies and gents! Billy Bly, star of rodeo and stock corral, makes his tie in eleven and six-tenths seconds!” Hobson, the announcer, drew a breath and then continued to bellow into the small end of his speaking trumpet. “That’s the fastest time so far today, and ties the record for this here arena!”
He turned and waved a hand. “Now out of the chutes—Deke Murph!”
Carson’s horse was a sorrel streak, and Deke’s rope shot out like a thrown lance, the loop opening just as the calf dodged, and dropped over its head! Murphy stepped down as his horse put on the brakes, dropped to one knee alongside the calf, and made his tie. As he sprang back, dust rising from the bound calf, a gasp went over the arena.
Hobson’s voice boomed out. “Well, folks! Now there’s a record! Deke Murphy at eleven and four-tenths seconds, to win the first go-around!”
Amid cheers, Murphy swung into the saddle and cantered across to where Carol stood waiting with her uncle Tim and Bly. Bly looked up, the same cold expression in his eyes, his lips forcing a smile. “Nice going,” he commented, but his voice was flat.
“Oh, Deke! You were wonderful!” Carol exclaimed.
* * *
BLY WON THE steer wrestling, with Deke a close second, and Red Roller, a big cowhand from Cheyenne, a tight third. In the Brahma riding, Deke came out on No. 66, an ugly mass of bull meat weighing all of two thousand pounds and a fighter as well as a rodeo veteran.
He knew what he was out there for and he went at it with a will, buck-jumping and twisting his tail. Deke was hanging on for dear life and the bull was out to ditch him or die. Somehow, Deke stayed up until the whistle blew.
He threw a leg over the bull’s back, hit the ground, and the bull swapped ends and came for him. The clowns rushed in with flapping cloaks and slapping hats to draw the animal’s attention. It sprang this way and that, trying desperately to get at its enemies, not so much in torment as in sheer enjoyment of battle and lust for conquest.
Deke limped back to the chute, grinning at Carol, his face dusty and a trickle of blood coming from his nose. “Rough!” he said, shaking his head.
“You made a good ride,” Carson admitted. “Bly’s drawn Highbinder for the bronc riding.”
“Who did I get?” Deke demanded, looking up quickly. Then he grinned wryly. “As if I didn’t know!”
“Shadow,” Carson confessed, “you’ll be up on Shadow!”
“Highbinder’s the worst horse,” Bly said casually. “Whoever heard of Shadow?”
“I did.” Murphy clipped the words. “I’ve seen him buck. Highbinder won’t touch him.”
“As if you knew,” sneered Bly, his eyes cold.
“I do.” Deke snapped the words. “I rode him!”
“What?” Bill Bly put an open hand to Deke’s chest and pushed, backing him up. “Why, you little liar! You—”
Deke’s balled fist smashed him in the mouth and the big man staggered. Then Bly straightened, his eyes utterly vicious. “Now you’ve done the wrong thing!” he said. “I’ll beat your head in!”
Bly rushed, swinging. His right was a long arc that encountered nothing but air. Deke Murphy rose inside of Bly’s arms and landed a series ofshort, wicked punches to the stomach and ribs. Bly clinched and hurled Deke back into the corral fence with sheer strength, then charged.
Again Deke, working coolly, went under the blow, and again he smashed away at Bly’s ribs with those strength-sapping short punches. This time he ducked away before Bly could clinch, and when Bly swung a left, Deke caught it on his right forearm, and chopped down with a wicked punch to the big man’s chin.
Bly blinked, he was bleeding from his split lips, and stared confusedly through the sweat and his hanging hair at the much shorter man.
“You want some more?” Deke asked calmly. “Or have you had enough?”
Deke looked him over coolly, then turned and walked away. As he drew near to Carol he paused. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t want trouble!”
Bly shook his head to clear it and stared after him. “Jailbird!” he sneered. “Highbinder was never rode but once! In prison!”
Deke’s face was white and still. He turned, and his voice was low but clear. “That’s right,” he said, “that was where I rode him!”
* * *
AS HE HEADED for the stable, staring grimly ahead, Deke passed close by two men whom he did not see. Jerry Haskell and Cass Kubela watched him go. “It’s him, all right,” Cass said. “The Boss was right. It’s the kid!”
“He knows us,” Haskell said.
Kubela’s eyes were cold. He took the cigarette from his lips and dropped it into the dust. “Not for long!”
* * *
CARSON STOOD BY, watching Deke bathe his face and hands, smoking quietly. When Deke had dried himself he looked at Carson.
“Now you know, I was in prison.”
“Knew it all the time. I even knew your stepfather.”
“You what?”
“Sure. Knew your ma, too. He wasn’t a bad man…just didn’t stop rustling when it went out of style.”
Tim Carson smoked thoughtfully. “Son, at the trial you said you knew the men who robbed that train, but you wasn’t with them. You named Cass Kubela an’ Jerry Haskell.”
“Right.” Deke waited, curiously.
“Now I’ve never seen those hombres. Until that job they always worked east of the mountains. Would you know them again?”
“I reckon I would.”
“How about their boss? You said at the trial you didn’t know him but that he was Jud Kynell. Folks thought you were coverin’ up. Were you?”